


Life Goes On

by riled_up_nerd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anya is a kid, Character Death, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5492582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riled_up_nerd/pseuds/riled_up_nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Costia dies while Lexa is deployed, and Lexa reflects on their life together. </p><p>(I suck at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for months trying to decide if I wanted to share it or not. It's my first fic so I apologize in advance for any mess ups, and for the amount of angst. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Of course nothing belongs to me)

Rain is a cliché at funerals. The loved ones are gathered together, standing around the gravesite with black umbrellas while rain falls, as if the heavens have a direct line to the mourner’s emotions. In reality, at least my reality, there is no cliché at this funeral. It is the same as any other day, the sun shining and people going busily about their daily routines. No, the only thing marking this day and this funeral is the great irony that is life.

  
Though I am sure it still would have been sad for those I love, if this had been my funeral it would not have been too much of a surprise or shock. Being in the military and deploying to dangerous places around the world tends to increase the odds that you will die. I would rather that I had died. Unfortunately, I didn’t and this is not my funeral. This is my wife’s funeral, Costia.

  
What makes this funeral so ironic is that I was deployed, putting myself in harm’s way, when the accident occurred. Can you imagine my disbelief when I return to base and have my CO and the chaplain pull me into an office and inform me that my brother, Lincoln, had sent a Red Cross message, and I am being sent home? A message that says my wife and child have been in a car accident. That my beloved Costia is no more and that my little girl, my sweet little Anya, is in the hospital. Meer minutes before I had been thanking the higher powers that be for the safe return of my team and I. Irony.

  
I don’t remember much after that moment when my life changed forever. Everything became a blur. All my training teaching me to stay calm in a crisis seemed to kick in, throwing me into autopilot mode. There was no time for a break down; I had to get home to Anya. She needed me and I couldn’t fail her.

  
By the time I had arrived they were discussing releasing Anya the following morning. It took both Lincoln and the doctor assuring me that she would be okay and make a full recovery in order to ease some of my concern, though fortunately she hadn’t suffered any serious injuries. She had suffered a concussion and multiple lacerations and because of the severity of the concussion had kept her a few days up to that point for observation. Thankfully they were correct, and Anya has been recovering well, at least physically. The emotional scars are going to be the longest part of her recovery, if she ever does fully recover.

  
Sitting in the hospital, watching Anya nap or lazily color in the little book Lincoln brought her, reality tried to sneak its way in and I had to fight back the thoughts attempting to flood my mind. The thoughts telling me that Anya would never be woken up in the morning by Costia’s gentle humming and rubbing of her back. She would never learn the secret pancake recipe that Costia had promised to teach her when she was old enough to cook. There would be no dancing throughout the house as Costia twirls her around in circles. No more spontaneous trips to random places just because. Gone, is the gentleness that was Costia when she was caring for those who held a piece of her heart.

  
Costia would have been better in this situation then me. She would know what to do and what to say to ease Anya’s pain and suffering. That last night in the hospital Anya woke from a nightmare, she had begun having them since the accident; two headlights speeding forward, tearing through the car like a ferocious monster and ripping her mother away from her. It took a long time, but once calmed down she asked me to sleep with her, because “that’s what mommy does” when she has a bad dream, so I willingly and carefully climbed in the bed and held her as she drifted back to sleep. In those quiet moments as I was watching her peacefully sleeping, held tightly in my arms, my grief caught up to me. Rocking my child, tears and cries of agony silently escaped into the darkness.

  
Everyday has been a task to try and find something to keep my mind occupied, to not think about what has now become my reality, Anya’s reality. Up to this point it has been fairly easy to distract myself, having to care for Anya or settle Costia’s affairs. You would think that by having to arrange her funeral that reality would be more evident, but somehow it isn’t, maybe it is the autopilot mode again. The nights are what is the hardest. Lying in bed, Anya tucked into my side, nothing but silence surrounding me; my mind typically drifts to the distant memories that we share.

  
The beginning feels as if it was a lifetime ago, both of us being so young. I was fresh out of basic and had just arrived at my first command; overseas in a country I was unfamiliar with. It was terrifyingly exciting.

  
Costia was this beautiful lively local I met when I stumbled into her, quite literally, after trying some drink with a weird name that was stronger than I had originally thought. Most of the night is missing from my memory, but her version of the story consists of me using numerous cheesy pick-up lines and staring at her like an awe-struck child.

  
From that point on I spent as much time with her as I could. Every weekend when I received liberty, her and I were together. She would take me to the hidden away parts of the country that only the locals knew. Exploring with Costia quickly became my favorite thing; trying new foods, seeing new things, making love under the stars. It was all exciting and it didn’t take long to realize that I had hopelessly fallen in love with her.

  
After the excitement of new love, there was still something just as wonderful there. She became a pillar in my life offering me encouragement and support. We were together for a few years before I left to go to back to the states for OCS and to eventually be transferred to a new station. Being away from Costia was horrible, I spent most of my time missing her. As great technology is, Skype calls just aren’t the same. I wanted her with me forever and always. So I took leave and hopped on a plane. The ring felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket, and with shaky hands I asked her to marry me before we even made it out of the parking lot.

  
It wasn’t too long after getting married that we decided to have Anya. Growing up it had only been Lincoln and I, so having a family had always been something I hoped for and with Costia I could have that. I remember the day she told me she was pregnant thinking that I couldn’t get any happier. That thought however, was proven wrong the day Anya was born. In that little hospital room was everyone I loved, my family; Costia, Lincoln, and the newest addition wrapped in pink with big hazel eyes.

  
Of course there were plenty more, happy moments that followed but those memories are now long gone. Instead I stand by a grave with the only two people I have left as the woman I love is lowered into the ground. And life goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully it wasn't too bad. And sorry again for the angst. When I wrote this I was working through some shit and it was a good outlet. I had also intended for it to be the beginning of a Clexa single parent au, but I got lazy and lost steam. I might get around to finishing that, but who knows... Anyways, thanks for reading :)


End file.
